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<title>When Life Was Gentle by Jaskiers_BrokenLute</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573154">When Life Was Gentle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute'>Jaskiers_BrokenLute</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Dead Jaskier | Dandelion, Depressed Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Inspired by Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths), Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Metaphors, Other, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump, voice of reason Jaskier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:01:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,647</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I forgive you,"<br/>Jaskier is here, sitting cross-legged beside his head. Jaskier, who's buried under a grand oak outside of Lettenhove, sat plucking blood-drenched grass from beside Geralt's neck and making a pile on top of his boots.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When Life Was Gentle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This covers heavy subject matter so please keep the tags in mind, there are detailed trigger/content warnings in the endnotes if you want to know specifically what's written, there will be slight spoilers for the fic but that doesn't matter as much as your mental health.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The blood flows from his side, through the cracks of his armour as if the divots were hollowed out for this very purpose, dripping into the grass and the dirt below, bits of Geralt already part of the earth before he has a chance to decompose.</p><p>It's slowing down now, the stream beginning to stutter, steady drops of blood joining the river below him. There's not much left to escape him, he can't even feel the wound in his side anymore, the memory of thick claws ripping through his skin like wet paper all but forgotten. </p><p>All he sees now is the sky, slowly turning from blue to pink as the sun sets on his final day. <br/>Roach is back at the camp he'd set up, his potion bag and bandages aren't, his second chance is mere feet away from him, has been since the wound was made, and yet he lies beside it and lets the trickle of life slow.<br/>His hands would be too shaky now, his vision too spotted, too lightheaded to even sit up, too tired to want to.</p><p>The sky looks different today, not just the shake in his vision that turns the clouds into white spots dragged across the sky, it looks the way someone besides him could see it, like something worth his attention. It's a bit brighter today than it's ever been, or perhaps the last of anything is always the sweetest. </p><p> </p><p>"I forgive you,"</p><p>Jaskier is here, sitting cross-legged beside his head. Jaskier, who's buried under a grand oak outside of Lettenhove, sat plucking blood-drenched grass from beside Geralt's neck and making a pile on top of his boots. </p><p>"I forgive you Geralt," He says again, not looking away from the grass. </p><p>"Don't say that," </p><p>"I forgive you." </p><p>"Stop." Geralt doesn't speak but he hears his voice demanding and angry. Every word Jaskier says makes his lungs heavier. </p><p>It hurts again, the rough fabric of his torn shirt rubbing against the edge of his wound, the nerve endings alight and burning. </p><p>"Get up," Jaskier looks him in the eye, how he could possibly think the sky is bright when staring into Jaskier's eyes he doesn't know. How long ago it was that he's last done it is agonizingly lost on him. He'd nearly forgotten the shade. </p><p>"Get off the ground Geralt, you're not finished just yet," </p><p>But he is, isn't he? All the good he'd had is pushed away, ripped by the very hand on his limp and throbbing arm. </p><p>"There are still people who love you, not many, but they're still here," He doesn't talk like Jaskier, there's no colour in his voice, no him. He speaks like it's written, monotone and irrefutable. He sounds like someone's killed the life from inside of him. </p><p>"Who could love you? Who, after all you've done." </p><p>Geralt is standing beside Jaskier, beside Geralt who's lying, bleeding into the earth. </p><p>Jaskier's always known better than him, and he remembers now the ones who would miss him, who would watch as snow packed the path and sealed his way home. Thinks of the ones who would look out windows as the sun goes down over an empty mountainside, who would talk over drinks about where he'd wintered this year, how he could have written ahead if he didn't plan on showing up. He can see them now, walking the path and asking after another witcher in every town they pass through, staring into the flames while they deny this very moment. </p><p>They love him, and he hasn't hurt them yet. Hasn't stopped them from loving him. </p><p>"Isn't it better to be remembered well than to rot in their minds while you live?" Geralt speaks. <br/>Their hurt would be temporary, and at least he'd be leaving something behind to be fondly remembered.</p><p>"It hurts, doesn't it? To watch the ones you love die?" Jaskier's bruised now, his eye shut with the swelling. Each word he speaks is coupled with thick blood spilling from his cracked and dehydrated mouth. The fingers he uses to pluck the grass are misshapen, one missing completely. He looks the way he did the day before Geralt found him, the marks of torture mar his beauty but don't kill it, even when he can't it lives on. <br/>And it hurts, so much more than the blood seeping from his side of the shirt against it, more than all he's faced before it to see suffering on the face of such good.</p><p>"Grieve, but don't suffer alone. Don't make them hurt like you," He says, the bruises are gone and he's safe again, it aches to see him the way he was before the ground was dug out beneath Geralt's feet, before he suffered the consequences of loving Geralt. <br/>He doesn't want his brothers to ache in the chest, unable to breathe an entire breath with the weight of hurting and never knowing if it's enough pain to make up for the loss. </p><p>"So self-indulgent," Geralt scoffs, his laugh is bitter. "No one could ever want you,"<br/>"You crave their acceptance but hate the attention, you're lying to them all." He spits on Geralt's still form, his chest rises just enough for it to drip down off his chest into the grass, Jaskier picks the wet blade from the soil and drops it on top of the blood-covered pile he's collected. </p><p>"It's all empty, this is a pointless resistance for nothing at all," Geralt sits beside Jaskier, fisting the grass off his knee and squeezing until blood flows from his fist like milk from an udder, dropping the mulch back into the ground. </p><p>What is there left when he's empty of blood, what would there be if wasn't. The line blurs enough that he can hardly understand why his heart still beats when he hasn't willed it to try.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't listen to him Geralt, it's not worth your time, don't waste what's left of it on lies." Jaskier throws the crushed grass into the distance, re-starting the cycle of plucking and placing the red grass on his boot. <br/>"You know there's more here than there is after, you've killed enough suffering souls that couldn't pass on to know there's nothing past that pain. The self is not so weightless as you think," </p><p>Geralt looks at Jaskier, and Jaskier looks back, the two sat beside the nearly gone who watches and waits for an end to their tug of war over him. Geralt stares at Jaskier until his eyes water and drip into the blood-soaked ground beneath them. He doesn't think he's ever seen himself cry until now. </p><p>"I forgive you," Jaskier repeats, he runs his hand along Geralt's cheek leaving a stream of blood behind him, it drips into Geralt's mouth who swallows down the sharp flavour.</p><p>It's only Jaskier now. </p><p>"You don't see a meaning now, no point to existing. All of it, just conjecture and pain." He says, staring at the empty air Geralt had just been sitting in. </p><p>"When has it been anything more?" The empty air says back. </p><p>"Then find a meaning, don't waste yourself here." </p><p>It's not a waste, Geralt thinks, I've done more than most, seen more, hurt more, caused more pain than Jaskier, and he's already gone. It's not a waste when it's been spent and regretted more than it's been cherished. Jaskier's death was a waste, a waste of so much more than he has to offer.</p><p>"It's not worth it Geralt," </p><p>"Don't listen Geralt," </p><p>"Just end it already,"</p><p>"You're worth more than you know,"</p><p>"You'll never be more than the pain you've caused," </p><p>"So much more than you know,"</p><p>The sky isn't blue anymore, Geralt can't feel how cold it's gotten, all he knows is the tugging in his chest that feels enough like exhaustion for him to know his body is ready to stop the fight going on beside him. </p><p>"You wanted my opinion," The air says, it's bitter, thick. The air just before a storm. </p><p>"No one asked your opinion," Jaskier speaks, he makes the air smell like chamomile and memories.</p><p>"Be done with this now," </p><p>"Can you hear me Geralt?" Jaskier asks nothing has ever sounded so clear, "I'm talking to you,"</p><p>I know, Geralt thinks as the sky turns from purple to black. But he didn't, not until now. So he listens to what he's sure he doesn't deserve to hear, but that voice is so sweet he wouldn't stop it if he could.</p><p>"You don't know what's going to come next, and it scares you," He says, his bloody hands run through Geralt's hair, he can feel it. Jaskier's hands run through his hair the way they had so many years ago, so gentle Geralt wanted to scream until his throat was raw.<br/>He remembers when his life was gentle. </p><p>"I was scared, before I died," He says, and Geralt hates to know he was afraid, hates to remember that the hand in his hair has been broken and buried. </p><p>"And I would give anything to see one more day. One more hour even," He smiles, he smiles like Jaskier now, a little more than black and white even as blood drips from the words.</p><p>"I wish I could see you again," He whispers. </p><p>"But I'm okay now, I promise." His hand leaves Geralt's hair and rests on the side of his face, it's warm and no longer covered in blood, it's comfort and sweet, and so much more than the cold numb the air is pushing onto his skin. </p><p>"I forgive you," </p><p>The air says nothing. </p><p>"You'll be okay," Jaskier's thumb runs under his eye, it comes away wet and Geralt remembers when his life was sweet.</p><p>"You'll heal and you'll overcome." He says, "You'll live " His smile is so soft Geralt thinks living must be something beautiful to come from a smile like that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>!!Trigger/Content Warnings!! In more detail than the tags</p><p>Suicidal thoughts: Geralt was injured on a hunt and actively doesn't treat the wound, letting himself die. <br/>There is a hallucinated Geralt that talks to real Geralt in very self-deprecating ways, encouraging him to go through with this plan. Geralt does not die so there is no actual suicide. </p><p>Blood and Injuries: Blood is mentioned and described quite a few times, the injury isn't described in detail but it is mentioned. Jaskier is also mentioned to have injuries akin to being tortured, nothing super detailed but it is described. </p><p>Depression: There isn't anything specifying any actual mental health issues, but the way Geralt talks in this and the way he feels can be triggering as it does describe depression and is very self-deprecating. </p><p>IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE TELL ME AND IF ANY OF THESE SOUNDS LIKE TRIGGERS PLEASE LEAVE NOW FANFICTION IS NOT WORTH TRIGGERING YOURSELF TRUST ME</p></blockquote></div></div>
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